


A Count’s Disposition

by DeceptiveLies



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Gryffindor/Slytherin Inter-House Relationships, Secret Identity, Secret Past, Wizarding Royalty (Harry Potter)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-13
Updated: 2020-08-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:22:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25876612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeceptiveLies/pseuds/DeceptiveLies
Summary: Adrian Pucey was the single biggest mystery in Hogwarts. He was a Slytherin, but kind. Highly intelligent, yet quiet. Unfairly pretty, but relatively unknown. After overhearing an odd conversation between Adrian and Dumbledore, Hermione Granger was determined to solve the question: Who the heck is Adrian Pucey? Thus the Wizarding World is never the same again.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Adrian Pucey
Comments: 8
Kudos: 56





	A Count’s Disposition

_**A/N: Okay so this is different. Really different. I am so excited to write this, so please let me know what you think!** _

* * *

Hermione Granger squinted at the text before her, her eyes straining as they attempted to translate the illegible footnote that was scribbled at the bottom of the old tome. The deadline for her mid-year project was a month week away, and still she felt as though she did not have enough proof to back up her well constructed theory. Thus bringing her here: to the library only hours before she was due to make an appearance at the Yule Ball. She supposed that she should have been spending this time on her appearance, lest she make a fool of both herself and her date tonight, yet alas she justified that _surely_ she had at the very least an hour to spare on this maddening Ancient Runes project.

Ancient Runes was perhaps Hermione's most difficult subject, a fact that often caused her to go many sleepless nights on the days before a test. It covered the theory behind the very fundamentals of magic, the written pattern to the creation of spells that was used far before spoken incantations were even created. Runes could be found at any historic sight in the Wizarding World, and Hermione found the subject utterly fascinating. Fascinating enough that instead of getting ready for her date with Viktor, she was instead perusing ancient books in order to help prove her theory on a certain subject.

With a huff she gathered the large and dusty tome into her arms, marching out of the library and towards the illuminated class at the top of the tower. She strode into the room confidently, shooting a smile towards the aging professor sitting behind the large oak desk.

"Ms. Granger," Professor Babbling greeted somewhat surprised, "What brings you to my classroom? I would have thought that a beautiful young witch like yourself would be getting ready for the ball tonight?"

A small blush crept up her cheeks at the reminder, "Well— uh, yes. I mean I _should_ be getting ready for the ball right about now. But I got caught up on my research for the assignment due next month, and there was this _fascinating_ passage that would correlate perfectly with my theory, but I just can't for the life of me translate this footnote! I'm not even sure what dialect it's in to begin with."

Professor Babbling gave a small chuckle as she pushed her glasses up, "Well? Show me the passage. I assume that's why you're here?"

Hermione reddened once more, striding up to the woman and opening the large book, "Ah, yes. The footnote is right here. I tried cross referencing it with dictionaries to every dialect I can think of, but nothing seemed to correlate."

"Hmm, I see your troubles," Professor Babbling spoke as she concentrated on the text, "This class, as well as most of Wizarding Britain, focuses mostly on the Gaelic translation with some time spent on the Germanic, Greek and Latin dialects. They are, after all, what most of the modern spells are built up from. This series of runes however is purely Romanian in nature, and unfortunately I have a nonexistent grasp on that language to be of any assistance."

"Romanian?" Hermione questioned with some surprise, "Isn't that the base of most Dark spells?"

Professor Babbling nodded solemnly, "That is correct, however it has little to do with the runes themselves and almost everything to do with the combination of the languages properties with dark inclinations. Romanian runes were traditionally used as healing spells, long before spoken incantations existed in the world of magic. Due to this, these runes were wildly popularized for their wide uses regarding blood spells, and to this day many bastardize the language by stripping it from the healing aspect and using it solely for the dark."

Hermione nodded in understanding, "That must be why it was referenced here, I'm trying to research the effects of spell creation regarding methods of aging. This footnote must be the in reference to the healing properties regarding the finicky spell and it's effects on the human body."

"I would hypothesize the same."

"Professor, surely you must know of some expert that I can send a letter to in regards to this translation? I would attempt to translate the rune myself using a dictionary now that I know the dialect it is written in, however it does not seem like a plausible solution given the complexities of the sentence structure."

Babbling smiled, "Romanian runes are impossible to translate from a dictionary alone, Ms. Granger. It is perhaps one of the most difficult languages to study, although with the correct understanding of it, it may also prove to be one of the most diverse. Thankfully you need not waste your ink penning a letter requesting assistance, there happens to be an expert on this very dialect residing in the castle."

Hermione felt her eyes widen in surprise. Romanian runes were _notorious_ for being impossible to grasp, for a prerequisite of translating the runes happens to be being fluent in the spoken language itself, a prerequisite uncommon in any other form of runes. For someone to translate the runes, they must first know and speak the language, and then spend _years_ learning the runic translation. There must only be a handful of experts in Romanian runes across the world, and for someone in this very castle to boast the talent was almost impossible.

"Who? The Headmaster?"

Professor Babbling let out an amused smile, one that gave the impression that she knew something most didn't, "Our esteemed Headmaster never had much appreciation for runes beyond the basics. No, our expert is merely a student, although a highly intelligent one."

Hermione's jaw dropped, "A student?! Who?"

"Why, he happens to be your only competition for the brightest student of your generation. Have you met Mr. Adrian Pucey?"

* * *

Hermione had not, in fact, met Adrian Pucey. In fact she had no idea who the boy even was, for she had never even heard his name before today. Telling this to the professor, she was dismayed to find out that he was a sixth year Slytherin who could now boast the title of the perfect student. In his last year he received 12 straight O's on his OWL's, a feat no one had accomplished since the time of Albus Dumbledore himself. _How_ had she never heard of this?!

Professor Babbling confessed that whilst Adrian was a quiet child, he was wildly popular amongst the professors. A model student, the professor proclaimed as she happily narrated his achievements. It was just a shame that the poor boy was placed in Slytherin, although it shouldn't be much of a surprise considering his parents. Hermione didn't understand that part of the mumbling, but it wasn't like she cared too much. All she cared about at this moment was to find the so-called "perfect student" and have him translate this Godric forsaken piece of text.

After asking a few milling about students, she was dismayed to find that very few people were even aware that a man named Pucey even walked the halls of Hogwarts. It was only after asking a Sixth year Hufflepuff on the Quidditch team that she was able to make some sort of headway. _Apparently_ as well as being perfect academically speaking, Adrian Pucey was also quite the successful chaser for his house team. Hermione had to forcibly stop herself from rolling her eyes, because _of course_ he was.

Half an hour and a dozen inquires later, she finally found the object of her search resting near the Great Lake. He was stretched languidly on the grass, his back propped up lazily by a tree as he carelessly perused the tome in his lap. Hermione approached cautiously, for the first time since speaking with Professor Babbling questioning the intelligence behind asking this random Slytherin for assistance. Sure, he may be a perfect student, but the boy was still a Slytherin and she was still the Boy-Who-Lived favorite mudblood.

The handsome, and Hermione was startled to see just how ridiculously _pretty_ the older boy was, student interrupted her quiet musing, "I assume that since you had yet to alleviate your stare from my person that you wish to ask me something?"

Hermione was startled out of her introspection, burning red at being caught staring at the boy. Squaring her shoulders in confidence she strode towards the Slytherin who had yet to take his eyes off the book before him, "You're Adrian Pucey."

"As I've been told."

"Professor Babbling claims that you're an expert in Romanian runes. I came across this footnote in a text and I was hoping that you wouldn't mind translating it for me. If you really are fluent, it shouldn't take you more than a minute."

Adrian finally took his eyes off the text to level a stare at the arrogant Gryffindor before him, startling grey eyes meeting the brazen resolve of her own brown. A smirk spread across his fine features as he replied, "You manage to insult my intelligence whilst asking me for a favor, it is quite the feat. Surely you do not think demeaning my knowledge on the subject to be conducive towards getting me to accept your request?"

Hermione bit her cheek. She would _not_ get angry at this narcissistic Slytherin, she wouldn't. He was her only chance at getting this text translated within a timely matter, and yelling at the boy wouldn't be her best bet, "I apologize if it came off that way. I just find it hard to believe that a mere sixth year could already boast fluency in a dialect only about ten people in the world are comfortable in."

Adrian chuckled, "Miss. Granger, if you would allow me to give you a bit of advice: you are much too Gryffindor to ever attempt manipulating a person. Especially a Slytherin. Perhaps you will have more luck getting your way if you continued on in your nature and asked me what you really want in a forward manner."

Hermione swallowed in anger, her teeth clenched as she replied, "Fine. _How_ in Godric's name did you manage to get 12 O's on your OWLs. It's said to be impossible. I myself am only taking 10 classes."

Adrian chuckled as he shut the tome with a resounding thud, leaning even further back onto the tree, "There it is, your true purpose for seeking me out despite perhaps not even knowing of my existence before today. Well I am feeling a bit benevolent today, so perhaps I will entertain your curiosity."

Hermione bit her cheek, "Wow, _thank you_ for the privilege." She wondered if he could hear her sarcasm, but according to the infuriating smirk that kept growing on his features, she supposed that he did.

"It is quite simple answer, Miss. Granger. You do not need to attend a class in order to sign up to take its corresponding OWL. I merely took the recommended 8 classes last year, whilst the other four I just studied during my free time."

"That's impossible."

Adrian quirked a single brow, "Oh? Why do believe so?"

"B-because it is!" Hermione stammered, "Do you know how much work goes into studying for an OWL? And to receive _twelve_ perfect O's! It's impossible!"

"I assure you, Miss. Granger, it is anything but," Adrian spoke, "Now, as I do not have all the time in the world to entertain your rants, perhaps you will show me the text you wish for me to translate?"

Hermione blinked at the reminder, before tentatively passing over the tome she carried in her hands, "It's the footnote at the end of the page, I can't make any headway with it."

Adrian pursed his lips ever so slightly as his cool grey eyes scanned the page, "I see. This footnote is regarding the healing property of the Stem of a Carnation; a series of Romanian runes used commonly in aging spells. It mentions that by combining the series of runes with another aging spell, the Stem of a Carnation runes would help ease the difficulty of the transition."

Hermione's eyes lit up in excitement as she took a step towards the boy, "Does it mention the series of runes anywhere? I can use it for my theory!"

Adrian took his eyes off the book, "I assume that you are in your fourth year now, meaning it is almost time for you to submit your own runic theory to Professor Babbling. Yours is regarding the aging magic, I take it?"

Hermione nodded cautiously, "It is."

Adrian clicked his tongue, "Well I am sorry to say that this book does not illustrate the Stem of a Carnation series. Only mentions it."

"Damn," Hermione muttered darkly.

"Thankfully, however, I have privately studied the rune in length. I can copy it down for you on a spare piece of parchment if you would like?" Adrian offered benevolently.

Hermione's shocked eyes quickly met his, "Why would you offer to help me? Aren't you a Slytherin?" She could almost curse herself for asking the question, but Merlin she was curious.

Adrian smirked in response, "I may be a Slytherin, and on any other day I may have attempted to reap any benefits I can from this interaction. But as I have previously stated, you have caught me in an _extremely_ jovial mood, so for this once I will assist you free of charge."

As he spoke, his hands were absentmindedly maneuvering his quill in a series of complicated loops and turns. Merlin above, he really was copying down the Stem of a Carnation series from memory alone. Finishing, he ran a gaze over his work before promptly handing it over to the fifteen year old Gryffindor, "There you go."

"I-" Hermione clutched the parchment to her chest, "Thank you, Pucey."

Adrian nodded, "Of course. However I have one final piece of advice: do take caution before approaching a random Slytherin for assistance; not all of them are as kind as I."

* * *

Hermione took a sip of pumpkin juice as she bemusedly watched her date Viktor clumsily trip his way through a dance with a fan of his from Beauxbatons, "Do you suppose Viktor will want to keep in touch after he goes back to Bulgaria?"

Ginny wrinkled her nose as she sat besides her friend, "Well that's a stupid question. He's positively _mad_ about you! Anyone can see it!"

Hermione grinned brightly, "You think so? I've been under the impression that he only asked me because I'm the only one who doesn't fangirl after him."

Ginny pondered a bit before answering, "That may be the reason he began seeking you out in the first place, but trust me. No man asks a woman to a ball unless he fancies her."

Hermione frowned, "Well that's not true. Ron did ask me, despite being an absolute git while doing so."

The Weasley tried not to roll her eyes as she responded, "My brother is an idiot, but the sentiment remains. Viktor is crazy about you."

"I hope you're right," Hermione lowly confessed as she watched him smile kindly at the obviously star struck girl in his arms. Slowly, unwittingly, her eyes strayed a bit to the left to watch another couple elegantly waltz their way across the dance floor. Adrian Pucey cut a handsome figure in his emerald green robes, his beautiful date draped in silver only serving to accentuate how ridiculously handsome the older Slytherin actually was.

"What do you know about Adrian Pucey?"

Ginny frowned at the random question, her own eyes drifting over to where the boy in question was elegantly dancing, "The Slytherin? Not much, why?"

"Just curious. But what _do_ you know?"

Ginny shrugged, "He plays chaser on the quidditch team. He's probably the only guy in that house to play fair and not resort to cheating. Fred and George share most of their classes with him, I know, and I've often heard them talk about trying to convince him to help them with a few charms for their pranks. Apparently the kid is pretty smart or something."

"Or something," Hermione muttered as she chewed her lip. Calling Adrian Pucey 'pretty smart' was like calling a Minister of Magic 'pretty successful'. It was a gross understatement. To perfectly be able to translate Romanian runes already put the man in a league of his own, and that was before taking his perfect 12 O's into consideration. Hermione knew that she was jealous of the older boy. It was obvious just from her interaction with the oddly kind Slytherin. Yet she was more so confused. If Adrian Pucey was so intelligent, enough so that her professors as a whole were impressed by him, how come she had not heard his name until today? Heck, she had never even _noticed_ the boy before, despite his sheer handsomeness. Surely her chatty roommates would have spoken about the unfairly pretty Slytherin before, he was too pretty to escape their radar.

"To be fair," Ginny continued, "I don't think anyone knows much about Pucey. He's pretty quiet, likes to stick to himself. Not one for friends either, although I _did_ notice him share a laugh with Flint once or twice when he was still a student here."

Adrian Pucey the pretty boy genius was friends with Marcus Flint the troll… No, Hermione just couldn't wrap her head around that one. Apparently her confusion showed on her face, because Ginny laughed, "Yeah, I didn't get it either. But then again all pure blood Slytherins are friends of sorts, they probably have been friends way before entering Hogwarts."

That would make more sense, Hermione reflected, watching the man spin his date across the floor. From across the ballroom, Adrian Pucey met the eyes of his newfound stalker. Sending an exaggerated wink her way, he chuckled as Hermione severed their connection with a blush rapidly spreading across her face. Hermione Granger would be amusing, he thought to himself. She really really would.

* * *

Two more hours. Adrian Pucey felt an uncharacteristic grin spread across his features at the thought, his long fingers clenching in excitement as he counted the minutes down. _Two more hours_. All of the work he had toiled long hours for during his years at Hogwarts, his years away from _her_ influence, will all be rewarded. In two more hours as the bells strike midnight, he will turn seventeen, and with reaching the age of majority in the Wizarding World, he will finally be free. _Two more hours_.

He had left the ball mere minutes ago, Yule was only a mere footnote in the grander scheme of this night. His date, a beautiful and kind French witch from Beauxbatons Academy, was not too pleased with him for cutting the night short, but Adrian couldn't find it in him to care. He had much to prepare for, and precious little time to spend entertaining the fanciful thoughts of beautiful women, no matter how tempting the thought may be.

Finally the day he had been waiting for had arrived. In only two hours everything he had dreamt about these last few years will be within his grasp. His freedom would be his to take. And all he had to wait was a mere two more hours.

The sound of cries reverberating through the dark empty halls of the castle halted his unhurried steps. Adrian paused momentarily, his cool grey eyes darting to the left where the soft feminine sobs could be heard. His fingers clenched ever so slightly, contemplating the intelligence of interrupting the obviously emotional girl. He was not a bleeding hearted Hufflepuff, he could just walk away. _Anyone else_ from his house would have just walked away. But Adrian's father taught him years ago that he was a gentleman first and foremost, and therefor a gentleman Adrian would be. It was only befitting of a man of his station.

Slowly he approached the sound, only to be shocked as he stared at the visage of an emotionally distraught Hermione Granger. He had seen her at the ball only an hour ago, and he had to admit to himself that she had cut quite the beautiful image. A periwinkle dress that hugged her frame perfectly as her curls were formed into a messy, yet elegant bun. Yet now, as she sat on the dirtied floor of the castle, her arms hugging her knees as she choked on her sobs, the beautiful image she had once made was far from grasp.

He sat next to her silently, leaning back onto the wall until she deigned to lift her head. Seeing as how she did not care to acknowledge his presence, despite undoubtedly noticing it as she stiffened momentarily as he took a seat, he spoke, "Miss. Granger, surely you are aware that a woman as beautiful as you does not deserve to shed any tears?"

Hermione choked on a laugh as she raised her head to meet his gaze, streaks of mascara running down her cheeks, "I doubt I look anything close to beautiful right about now."

Well. No, she didn't. But Adrian Pucey wasn't idiotic enough to confess that, "A beautiful woman stays beautiful regardless of the tears she may shed."

"Tell me, have you ever taken a class on how to be charming? Because this level of compliments is excessive even for a pure blooded Slytherin," Hermione mocked somewhat cruelly.

Adrian did not let the words bother him as he responded, "No classes, I'm afraid. My charm is purely an inherited one, I assure you."

"Joy," Hermione sarcastically muttered, before descending into silence. For minutes, maybe hours, the two stayed like that. Perfectly still and silent and caught up in their own thoughts.

"What are you even doing here, Pucey? Don't you have some date to entertain?"

"I cut my night short," Adrian confessed, "I'm afraid I had a previous engagement that could not wait."

"And yet you sit here with me?"

"My father always told me that it was a gentleman of ill repute who did not assist a damsel in distress."

"Is that what I am to you? A damsel in distress?" Hermione snorted.

Adrian lifted a brow, "Does that title insult you, Miss. Granger?"

Hermione crossed her arms, "Of course it does! I am much more than some damsel in distress!"

"Well of course you are, I would never suggest otherwise. However you are a damsel, and you are currently in distress. Simultaneously you are many other things, yet still a damsel in distress is only one of them."

"I still do not like the insinuation," Hermione bit out.

"Why not?"

"Because you're insulting me by saying that I'm some poor dame who needs to be rescued by a gentleman of some sort, which I assume is the role you have currently cast yourself in."

Adrian clicked his tongue, "My my, Miss. Granger. What a sad life you must live to find insult in even this. I merely meant that you are a beautiful woman shedding tears for a reason, and that as a passerby I must at least try to comfort you during your emotional upheaval. Is your vanity simply so astronomical that it cannot abide for even a moment?"

"It is not vanity, but perhaps pride. Vanity and pride are different things, though the words are often used synonymously. A person may be proud without being vain. Pride relates more to our opinion of ourselves, vanity to what we would have others think of us," Hermione lectured defensively.

Adrian chuckled, "And is it not vanity that has you quoting _Pride and Prejudice_ at me?"

Hermione startled, "You recognize the quote?"

"Obviously."

"But it's a muggle book."

"Miss. Granger, do you find joy in restating the obvious?"

"I'm just surprised that you've read a muggle book."

"Miss. Granger, the world is not black and white, and the sooner you come to terms with this fact the happier you will be. Not every Slytherin is bigoted, just as not every Gryffindor if foolhardy. Learn to see beyond your box or you will never be as smart as you believe."

" _Now_ who is proving to have a fair share of vanity?" Hermione mocked.

"I am merely stating a fact, Miss. Granger."

"Why do you keep calling me that?"

"Calling you what?"

" _Miss_. Granger. You are not my professor, so why do you keep adding such a formal title to my name?"

Adrian shrugged, "It is a habit, I suppose. One that would take far too much effort on my end to get rid of, so I suppose you will have to get used to it."

Hermione laughed, "Do you predict our continued acquaintanceship past this odd day?"

"No," Adrian answered candidly, "However fate has brought us together twice today, what is to say it will not continue to do so after we return from our holiday?"

"I suppose," Hermione mumbled, casting suspicious glares at the older boy.

"You have something else you wish to ask?" Adrian sent a knowing look to the girl.

The Gryffindor, bold as she was, began, "You speak formally."

"I do."

"Why?"

"I am afraid I do not fully comprehend your question."

"Most pure bloods speak pretty formally, but not nearly as much as you. Why do you always speak as though you are addressing a king's court rather than a peer?"

"Let us just say that it is merely a part of my inherit charm."

"Convenient."

"Quite. Now, I am afraid I must bid you good night. I do have matters of my own to get to, after all," Adrian spoke as he rose, dusting his robes off with the motion.

"Goodnight, Pucey. And thanks for distracting me from… well, you know," Hermione embarrassingly spoke.

Adrian nodded, walking away as he said, "Miss. Granger, please do remember that no man is worth your tears. Especially not one as moronic as Ron Weasley."

By the time Hermione had processed what the Slytherin had said, he had already disappeared into the darkened hallways. How in Godric's name did he know that she was crying over Ron?!

* * *

Adrian Pucey did not need a clock to tell him when it struck midnight; he felt it all along his entire body. His right wrist burned something fierce, and it was only mildly soothed by the sheer power that now coursed through his veins. It was an addictive feeling, the magic that pulsated throughout his entire body. Magic that he felt seeping from the grounds beneath the castle and burrowing itself into his very being.

Glancing down at his wrist he spotted the golden tattoo, a band wrapped tightly around his wrist made up of characters few in the world could recognize and even fewer could translate. Yet the Romanian runes came as easy to him as breathing, "The Count of Brittania." His birthright was finally his to claim.

It was with a grin on his face that he had his way through the darkened halls and down to the dungeon, a grin that was quickly stifled upon running into another, "Headmaster, I believed you to be still caught up in tonight's festivities."

* * *

Hermione Granger didn't mean to follow Adrian Pucey around the castle… Okay, she _did,_ but really it was only because she was certain the mysterious Slytherin was up to something nefarious. _Nothing_ about the man made sense. He was highly intelligent, perhaps even a genius, yet she had never heard of him before today. He was unpopular with the student body, yet he was pretty enough that even Hermione had to admit he was probably the best looking male in school. He was a chaser for the Slytherin quidditch team, yet she never heard Harry or Ron even mention the boy in passing. He spoke as though he had just waltzed off the pages of a Dickens novel, and yet he could recognize a quote from a muggle novel. The boy was a walking juxtaposition, he just _had_ to be hiding something.

It was for this reason that she was able to catch the conversation Adrian Pucey shared in the dark halls of Hogwarts on this night. Hiding behind a wall, she spied on the two wizards.

"Headmaster, I believed you to be still caught up in tonight's festivities."

Dumbledore gave a small chuckle, his blue eyes twinkling brightly in the dark, "Well I could not pass the opportunity to be the first to wish you a happy birthday on this night, Mr. Pucey."

Adrian nodded kindly, "Thank you, Headmaster. It is a sentiment I much appreciate."

"And I suppose a congratulations are in order as well?"

"There is still a few details I need to sort out, however I thank you once more."

"May your reign be long lived, my lordship."

"And may your life be reflected equally as well, Headmaster."

"There are many things we need to discuss, Mr. Pucey. Perhaps you have some time tomorrow before the train departs?"

"Unfortunately I must decline your invitation, Headmaster. It would be ill of me to enter a meeting with you before being completely aware of my newly acquired finances, and I do not want to insult your prestige before being in full awareness over the details of my lordship."

Dumbledore laughed, "You do so remind me of your father when he was young, Mr. Pucey."

Adrian too laughed, "My father was many things, Headmaster, however diligent was not one of them. I believe we are both aware of how unfit the man was for both his house and status, despite his caring disposition."

"Your father was a kind man," Dumbledore confessed solemnly, "It is a shame he departed far too young."

"It is, however I seek to continue his work despite his eternal rest. My fathers death will not be in vain."

"I wish you luck on your endeavor, my Lord."

"Thank you, Headmaster. Until the morrow."

"Until the morrow."

Hermione waited until both sets of footprints disappeared complete from earshot before she let out her sigh. What the heck did she just overhear?


End file.
